


A Traitor's Daughter

by Sansa_Stark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-05-31 05:33:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6457855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sansa_Stark/pseuds/Sansa_Stark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a new year at Kings, and Sansa Stark is just trying to keep her head down after last years scandal, when her father was convicted of embezzlement from the schools funds. Shunned by her former friends, Sansa finds herself growing closer with Margaery Tyrell, the pretty new girl whose father has replaced Ned Stark. But there is drama; her abusive ex-boyfriend is more dangerous than before, furious that her father’s embezzlement has also cost his father his job. And some of the teachers, while strict before, now actually seem to have it out for her. Meanwhile, since her father’s arrest her brother Robb has been acting out, and her cousin and sister have been more and more distant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Characters ages have been played with a bit; in this Joffrey, Margaery and Sansa are sophomores, around 15/16. Also I'm from the UK but wanted to use a four-year system instead of a two-year one, so sorry in advance if there are any inaccuracies. Updates should hopefully be once a fortnight.

Sansa took a deep breath, and tried to settle the fluttery feeling in her chest. You can do this, she told her reflection. None of this is your fault. It was the start of September, and the start of Sansa’s sophomore year, but this year Sansa knew was going to bear little resemblance to Freshman year, where she’d easily made friends and the teachers had been considerate of the Vice Principal’s daughter. Not so now. Over the summer break, startling revelations had been made about her father’s activities in that role. As it turned out, more authority and a higher paycheck weren’t the only perks in Mr. Stark’s new job; he had also made a second living through the embezzlement of the school’s funding on the side. 

When the news broke, she had been on summer vacation for a week. Everything seemed perfect, until it came crashing down around her. Her father had been arrested, her boyfriend’s father taken in for questioning, and then the whole storm had broke. The truth was announced in national headlines: “School Leader Responsible for Embezzling Millions from Funding”. Her father had lost his job, and she had lost her house, social status and dignity, all in one fell swoop. Friends had stopped responding to her calls, and one day her boyfriend’s mother had actually come storming round their house, screaming at her mother about how her husband had had to resign over the scandal. Their house had been huge, one of the largest in the area, but with court costs and the money her father had been ordered to pay back to the school, it had been necessary to downgrade. Now, she was forced to share an apartment with her mother, sister and three brothers, and everyone’s tensions were increasingly high. 

Stepping away from the mirror and picking up her bag, she winced as she remembered her boyfriend’s – no, ex-boyfriend’s – reaction to the news. She’d gone to see him, to say sorry and plead that she’d had nothing to do with it. He’d slapped her so hard she had tasted blood and tears had sprung to her eyes, before spitting that it was over and leaving her sitting on the ground, dumbstruck and heartbroken. She didn’t tell her mother. She had cried that night, and every night for the next week, as all her belongings were packed into boxes around her. Her sister had tried to comfort her, but nothing Arya said could do anything to change the fact that everything she loved was crumbling around her. 

Sansa straightened up and made her way to the door. That was over now, all in the past, and it was time to move on. Still, she couldn’t stop her fingers from shaking as she clutched the bannister and made her way downstairs. In the hallway, her brother was waiting for her. He gave her a small smile when she saw him, and Sansa tried to return it. In the kitchen, loud voices and the clinking of bowls told her the rest of the house was still eating. She thought she could hear her sister Arya over the others, and a pang of jealousy went through her as she thought how Arya was too young to be starting high school. She’d been 12 when they first moved to the Crownlands, and now at thirteen was still a year away from starting at Kings. With any luck by then things would have settled down, and Sansa had no doubt that Arya would make plain sailing of it. It was Sansa who had to bear the brunt of it. And Robb, of course. But at least he was a senior, and since he was a year older than most and a star football player, somehow Sansa didn’t think he’d have too many problems. They were heading for the door when their mother called out.

“Robb, Sansa, are you off already?”

“We have to leave now if we want to get there on time, and you don’t want us to be late, do you?” Robb replied.

“No sweetling” Sansa’s mum said as she entered from the kitchen, her long auburn hair, so like Sansa’s, tied up hastily on top of her head. She looked at them and smiled, but Sansa could see the uncertainy behind it. “Sansa, can I have a word in the lounge?” 

“Sure” Sansa followed her out. “As long as it’s quick though, Robb’s right.” Sansa thought she knew what her mother was going to say, and when she turned to face her her suspicions were confirmed. Her mother’s face had settled into a look of concern. 

“Sansa, are you sure you’re going to be okay today? I know how hard this summer’s been for you, and with your dad-“

Sansa cut her off quickly. “Honestly mum, I’m fine,” she lied. 

“I’m sure it’s almost completely blown over by now,” her mother said, trying to affect an air of breeziness that didn’t quite work. “But if you do have any problems, or find yourself struggling, let me know, okay?” Sansa nodded, and her mother kissed her on the head before clutching her to her chest. 

“I love you mum,” Sansa said, hoping her mother could hear her sincerity. Her mother smiled “And I you, sweetling. Make sure your brother stays out of trouble for me, would you?”

Sansa smiled at that. “I will. I’ll see you this evening, mum.” She hurried out after her brother, who was at the front door, waiting impatiently.

“Hurry up, sis,” he said exasperatedly, and Sansa scurried after him. She could do this.


	2. Chapter 2

She couldn’t do this. From the minute they stepped onto campus, Sansa knew it was going to be worse than even she’d imagined. She’d expected to be treated coldly, maybe ignored, but the moment someone in her year had spotted her the glares and whispers had started. In registration she sat by herself, alone and awkward, watching her friends from last year chattering happily and not daring to try and join in. And then Joffrey marched in.

Oh Gods, she’d tried so hard not to think about him this summer, but his face had haunted her nightmares. She hadn’t seen him since the day he slapped her, and when he walked through the door she froze to her seat in fear, her heart beating loudly and her fingers tingling. He smirked when he saw her, a cruel expression entering his eyes, and loudly exclaimed, "My, would you believe it? It's the traitor's daughter. Who would have thought she'd have dared to show her stupid little face?"

The rest of the room went quiet and Sansa could feel her cheeks flushing and her eyes filling with tears. She'd expected cruelty, but public humiliation?  _Don't cry_ , she thought desperately;  _don't show him he's getting to you_. She lowered her eyes.

"I'm talking to you, you little bitch," Joffrey spat, striding towards her up the aisle.  _Oh Gods, Oh Gods,_ Sansa thought, panicking, but just the the bell rang and Joffrey stopped, scowling, and took his seat in the corner as their form tutor entered. Sansa exhaled slowly and blinked away the tears, trying to ignore the half a dozen eyes she felt still fixed on her, instead concentrating on the teacher. 

Mr. Baelish had been her maths teacher last year, and although he creeped Sansa out, he was a better option for her attention than Joffrey, who was sniggering in the corner.  _Probably something about me._ With a sigh she thought back to how it had been last year. He'd been so gallant when she'd met him; introducing himself as practically her acquaintance already, since their fathers were so close. She'd laughed at that, a faint blush creeping into her cheeks. A blush that had deepened when he'd asked if she wanted to sit with him at lunch. She wished he could have stayed that way forever. 

As Mr. Baelish took the register, Sansa mused inwardly. If she was honest with herself she had to admit that things had gone downhill long before the summer. Joffrey had been possessive, always grabbing her painfully when she didn't do what he wanted, making it clear when she'd done something that had displeased him. Towards the end of the year, he'd even started pressuring her into doing things she didn't want to do, whining how it wasn't fair to him that she kept teasing him. Sansa had stammered out excuses and he'd grudgingly not pushed it further, but things had stopped being anywhere near good between them. 

Hiding from Joffrey's glare by deliberately looking at the other side of the room, Sansa's attention was piqued by a new presence. A pretty brunette she had never seen before was sat to the side, talking animatedly with a small group of girls, including Sansa's former close friend, Myranda Royce. Sansa quickly looked back down at her desk when Myranda caught her eye: she hadn't spoken to Sansa since the summer. Probably the person with the biggest mouth at Kings, Sansa had nevertheless liked her no-nonsense approach to everything she said and did. At least until it was turned on her. Myranda Royce was seemingly afraid of nothing, and Sansa didn't particularly fancy drawing more attention to herself. 

As the bell went and people started moving off to class, Sansa could see Joffrey turn back to stare at the new girl, obviously interested. Sansa followed her out of the room, watching her smooth brown hair fall animatedly down her back as she turned her head to laugh.

 

* * *

 

She thought she’d made it through the day relatively unscathed, considering. The morning had been shaky but thanks to a relatively lucky timetable that meant she had no core subjects on Mondays she hadn’t had to face any more encounters with Joffrey, and aside from him the rest of the school seemed content to just glare from a distance. When she walked out of the school gates she felt a lightheaded relief, like a sudden weight had just been lifted from her chest, and she finally felt free to breathe again.

That was when her phone rang.

The number was one she didn’t recognise, and Sansa hesitated before she answered it.

“Hello?” she asked tentatively, dreading the response. 

“You’re dead, bitch,” she heard Joffrey’s vindictively spit from the other end. Sansa quickly ended the call, her hands trembling uncontrollably and tears forming in her eyes. She tried to breathe normally as her phone beeped again, and an incoming text lit up the screen. 

_I hope you like your facebook page!_ It read. Sansa clicked on the link and then quickly closed it again, this time unable to stifle a sob. The page Joffrey had linked her to was titled “Sansa Stark should die”. It was filled with graphic images of her head photoshopped onto pictures of people dying, mostly in gruesome ways. One image in particular struck her, that of a person being decapitated. When the sword swung down cartoon blood appeared and her head went rolling off the page.

The numbers were the worst part, though: hundreds of people had liked it.

 

* * *

 

Sansa rushed up to her room as soon as she got home. “How was school?” her mother called from the kitchen, but she ignored her, not stopping until she got to her room, where she shut the door behind her and collapsed into tears. It wasn’t fair. She’d done nothing wrong, and now her life was a living hell. Her mother didn’t follow her, and Sansa was glad. She didn’t want to have to explain all the terrible ways today had gone horribly wrong.

Her phone lit up. Sansa checked it with dread, only now noticing Arya’s message about being late because of soccer tryouts, and Jeyne’s message about being busy for a few days. The new message wasn’t from Joffrey though; it was from her cousin Jon.

“Hey. Coming to stay next week. You okay?” 

She hastily typed a reply. “Fine, why?” and then “Mum’s letting you?”

It took him a minute to reply. Sansa contemplated. If Jon was coming, maybe the next few weeks wouldn’t be as bad. They’d not always got on, but in the last year or so they’d got over their issues. Her cousin had been a Godsend during the past summer.

“You sure? Know it was first day back today”

“& she knows I wouldn’t ask if not desperate.”

Sansa paused, considering what to tell him. _I could lie, but I do enough of that with everyone else_. She decided to tell the truth

“awful tbh. Don’t tell Robb” His reply was almost instantaneous.

“what happened?”

“Joff. Also entire school body hates me.” She tried not to make it seem too whiney; Jon had problems of his own. This time his response took longer.

“Know it’s tough but you can do this Sans”

“Call me later? If not I'll be there in a few days.”

And if anyone did know tough, it was Jon. He’d lost both his parents a few years back and her father had become his legal guardian, but he’d never quite adjusted to the Starks. Instead, he’d joined the military as soon as he was 17, and from the sound of it had made a second home there. Sansa couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for him to lose both parents nearly simultaneously. She’d had a hard enough time losing her father. The thought filled her with pain, and she tried unsuccessfully to push it out of her mind. She’d vowed she would never forgive her father for what he’d done, refusing to see him when he was granted visiting hours in jail. Her mother went regularly, and she knew Arya did often, but Sansa couldn’t believe his betrayal. Just the thought of it almost made her sick. How could her father, who she’d always looked up to, always admired, do something so dishonourable?


	3. Chapter 3

As she was walking to registration the next morning, people kept deliberately walking into her. She knew she should have set out earlier, but she didn’t want even the possibility of ending up in a classroom with Joffrey by herself. As she paused to get her books out of her locker, someone slammed into her hard, smashing her hip into the cold metal.

“Slut!”

Sansa winced and turned around, but it was already too late to see who it had been.

_What?_ She thought to herself.

 

* * *

 

Joff was talking to the new girl when Sansa entered the room, and was that distracted that he didn’t even notice her. They seemed pretty friendly, and Joff was putting on a gallant act again. _Like he did when he first met me._ Sansa decided to warn the girl as soon as she could.

She was washing her hands when she saw the pretty brunette entering the toilets. She knew she should keep her head down, but a sudden madness struck her, and she blurted out “You should be careful around Joffrey”.

The girl turned to her in surprise, and Sansa knew she had overstepped the mark. _Oh Gods, what if she thinks I’m threatening her?_ She thought to herself. In a desperate attempt to show that wasn’t the case, Sansa blurted “he seems nice but it’s just a show.”

The girl frowned “Sansa, right?” Sansa nodded. “Sansa Stark, whose father was the vice principal?” Sansa winced. She knew how this was going to go.

“Look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything” she muttered, starting towards the door, but the girl stopped her by putting her hand on her shoulder.

“I’m Margaery” she said, and smiled. Sansa smiled tentatively back, wondering if this was a trap. “Thank you for warning me, but I’m sure I can take care of myself.” Sansa backed away from that, feeling stupid that she’d presumed so much, and would have made her way towards the door if the girl – Margaery – wasn’t still holding her shoulder. Margaery saw her looking at her hand. She gently removed it. “I’ll see you around, Sansa” she said cheerily, and Sansa left the toilets infinitely more confused than she’d been when she entered them.

* * *

 

Sansa thought most of the problems with high school could probably be explained by observing gym class. There was the compulsory element, of course, and then the arbitrary segregation into specific groups for specific sports. And then there was the actual _doing_ of sports. Sansa was pretty graceful, if she said so herself - and she was sure the early years of ballet didn’t hurt – but put on a court in front of several other aggressive people? Suddenly she had two left feet and an excess of arms.

It didn’t help that basketball was played with four teams in rotation, either, although at least the compulsory gender split meant she had absolutely no chance of running into Joffrey. The girl Margaery was in her set, though; Sansa could see her introducing herself to a tall, tan blonde she thought was called Kaylee, over with the group being handed purple bibs.

Sansa had never had Miss Montgomery before, but she certainly didn’t look like someone she wanted to cross. Short and toned with cropped brown hair, there was something in the set of her face that made her look as though she’d been born to be a gym teacher.

“Girls! Gather round!” She ordered, and the way she said it made it sound more like they were in the military than a Tuesday afternoon gym class. Sansa shuffled non-commitedly closer to the centre of the hall, tugging instinctively on the bottom of her bib.

“Now that you’re all in the colour groups I’ve assigned you, I think it’s time we went over some ground rules. First, I don’t tolerate any nonsense. You are with me for this whole semester and if you are late, you will get detention. If you truant, you will get detention. And if I see _any_ misbehavior on court, I’ll have you back and scraping gum off the sports classroom tables til’ you wish you’d never been born. Understood?” There was a collective nod, and Sansa could see more than a few ‘who does she think she is?’ eye-contacts being made across the group. It didn’t help that she was so short that making eye contact over her head was easy.

“Other than that I just want some enthusiastic playing. Two teams on, two observing. Red vs. Purple, you’re up first. Let’s move it, people!”

As the court set up around her, Sansa moved to the benches. She hadn’t minded gym class so much last year; it had been a good excuse to gossip for half an hour if you were in a big enough group, and somehow sport wasn’t as humiliating when you knew people weren’t actively encouraging you to mess up. Now, as she sat by herself yet again, she couldn’t help but feel down. Virtually no one had spoken to her today, just like yesterday. She wanted to cry, or go home, or at least be somewhere where she couldn’t _feel_ peoples’ stares all the time. She hated school.

“Sansa! How’ve you been?” Came a voice from above her, to her right. Sansa started at the sound and turned around to see a rather plain but friendly looking girl standing over her and smiling, her long red hair tied up in a messy bun but with tendrils already standing to spill out. The girl was Beth Waters, Sansa’s lab partner from last year. Sansa didn’t know her that well – they hadn’t exactly travelled in the same social circle last year – but she had seemed nice, if a little bit awkward. Sansa decided to ignore her question; everyone knew that she most definitely hadn’t been good.

“Hey Beth, long time no see,” she settled for instead, returning the girl’s smile. But in truth, relief was coursing through her already. No one at school had started a friendly conversation with her yet, and the longest she’d spoken to anyone in her year had probably been her non-conversation with Margaery Tyrell yesterday. Sansa’s stomach went funny at that, and she remembered the way the girl’s hand had lingered on her shoulder, her eyes looking into hers and reassuring her in a way that made Sansa feel that she was peculiarly invested in her, that she really cared about all her problems and could sweep all of them away if Sansa let her. Those eyes had felt like warmth.

“Well, whose fault is that?” Asked Beth, only semi-playfully, and Sansa was brought back to the present.

“I’m sorry,” said Sansa, willing to placate “I’ve just been busy since summer.” Sansa expected her to look abashed, or at least mildly uncomfortable when she caught what Sansa was alluding to, but the girl barely blinked, like it hadn’t even registered.

“You know, if you had my phone number then you could call me when you were free. Or you could give me yours. We could meet up sometime.” Sansa wasn’t thrilled at the prospect, but she checked herself, aware that she was distinctly lacking in the friends department. Or even in the people-who-didn’t-hate-her department.

“Yeah sure, that sounds nice,” she said instead.

“Great!” the other girl said, a bit more enthusiastically than Sansa would have thought, and walked back up the benches to where the rest of the green team was. Sansa turned back to the game. The red team wasn’t bad, but she thought the purple team was slightly better. The ball went out of court and the reds got a sideline. It looked like they’d get a clean pass on it but then a purple bib came out of nowhere and knocked it back. When she turned her head to follow it’s path Sansa saw it was Margaery, her face a faint red now from the exertion of the game. _She’s really going all out for this._ She was surprised; the girl was short for a basketball player, but what she lacked in size she made up for in sheer determined energy, sticking close to her player and getting shots that by rights should’ve gone straight past her. One of her teammates got the ball and dribbled it down towards the goal. Once it was in the end third of the court it was clear the purple team were doing to score: their attackers were flawless. Sansa watched the ball swing through the hoop almost effortlessly, and had to admit she was impressed. They were setting up for another centre when Miss Montgomery’s whistle blew.

“Time! Purple team win 2-1” The purple team shared grins, while the red team approached to shake hands.

“Next teams Purple vs. Blues.”

“But Miss,” called one of the purple team, “Shouldn’t it be greens and blues? We’re a little tired.”

“When you’re the gym instructor you can do that if you want, but right now I’m in charge and I’m saying purple vs. blues. And if you’re tired after a ten-minute match you need these gym classes more than I thought. Blue team get on the court, now.”

The purple team was clearly unhappy. “That’s so unfair,” muttered the tall blonde Sansa had seen earlier.

Sansa got up from the bench and made her way onto the court, fiddling with her bib again. She was stood in the middle, a relatively easy position considering; lots of contact, but very little responsibility except to mark her player. The whistle blew, play started, and the blues got the ball. The purple team had to have used up a lot of their energy, because it made its way all the way down to the net with barely any resistance. The keeper made a good play at deflecting, but the purple defensive players couldn’t get there in time to stop a blue attacked from shooting. It balanced on the rim, then went in.

“Pick it up, purple team!” Shouted Miss Montgomery. Sansa could see the purple team getting visibly annoyed. When play started again it involved a lot of aggression. Sansa’s mark winded her as she tried to stop her getting possession, and instead Sansa managed to knock the ball out of the court. She blushed as a blue team member went to take it, and then tried to concentrate on marking the players. The blue player looked like she might pass left, but at the last moment Sansa saw her eyes focus on a spot behind her to the right. Just as she let go of the ball Sansa raced in the direction she was sure it was going to. And she was right. The ball was coming straight to her, the blue player couldn’t run in on time, and—

WHACK

Sansa was on the floor, her back smarting with the impact and the surface burn, and her stomach heavy and hot with the weight of someone on top of her. She opened her eyes. 

Margaery Tyrell was looming above her, her face within a hand’s reach, practically _straddling_ Sansa. She’d put out a hand to break her fall and it had fallen instead on Sansa’s breast. The scene lasted only seconds, and then Margaery was jumping off her and apologizing, trying to check if she was okay.

“I’m _so_ sorry, that was entirely my fault. I always get too aggressive in team sports, I thought I could get to it before you.”

“T-that’s alright,” Sansa stuttered, still not entirely over the shock. Margaery offered her a hand and helped her to get up, and Sansa winced at the pain in her back. The game was paused; Miss Montgomery was coming over. _Oh no_ , Sansa thought. _Just what I need; more stupid attention._

“Well I admire your aggression, girls, but I think a little less of it in future might be a good idea. Remember, I want _clean_ games. Are you okay, Miss-?”

 “Sansa. Sansa Stark,” said Sansa. “I think so. My back hurts a little, and my head.”

 “And you, Miss-?”

 “Tyrell,” said Margaery, almost completely unfazed by the whole situation. “And I’m completely fine; Sansa broke most of my fall.” 

“Well then I suggest you take Miss Stark to the medical room, Miss Tyrell. Only make sure _you_ come back afterwards – I won’t have truanting in this class.”

“Of course, Miss Montgomery.” Margaery said, leading Sansa off.

“Can you walk by yourself?” She asked, as Miss Montgomery turned away to resume the game.

“Yes,” Sansa replied. “Really I’m fine, there’s barely anything wrong with me.”

“I’m glad. I am really sorry I fell on top of you,” Margaery said, but the words came out with a smile.

“It was pretty funny,” Sansa admitted. “I swear I’m not normally that determined, the whole sport thing isn’t really me. Arya’s the one with all the aggression.” When Margaery looked confused, Sansa realised her mistake. “My sister,” she added.

“Oh,” Margaery’s smile widened as she caught on. “Well with your determination you should try cheerleading. My mum was head cheerleader for two years at her high school, and now I’m on the team here.”

“I don’t know.” Sansa tried to sound apologetic and unsure, wanting to let Margaery down lightly, but there was absolutely no way she was cheerleading. Especially not at this school, where school spirit seemed to be less about waving pom poms and more glaring at her in hallways and tripping her up when teachers weren’t looking. Turns out those most filled with school pride were also the ones who tended to feel particularly strongly when most of the sports budget funds were stolen. And nowhere was support for Joffrey stronger than on the football pitch, where his grandfather’s generous donations had stopped the team from having to forfeit the league after making it all the way to state finals the year before.

“Well you should at least consider it” Margaery put forward “You’ve certainly got the figure.” This last statement she made playfully, walking forward to get the heavy gym door.

“Thanks,” Sansa said under her breath. She couldn’t stop thinking about the awkwardness of the other girl’s body on top of hers, her hand slamming into her chest. She was just glad it was Margaery Tyrell; if any other girl had landed in such an uncompromising position, no matter how accidental, it would’ve been social suicide, another joke for Sansa to be the brunt of. But Sansa knew this would glide off Margaery like water. She was never flustered for a start, the perfect politician’s daughter. Sansa couldn’t imagine her embarrassed by anything in her life.

Margaery was just one of those people, Sansa reasoned. The ones you could just tell were cool, to whom the thought their company could ever be unwanted by anyone was entirely alien. She walked through life with a confidence Sansa envied whilst it simultaneously amazed her. And yet she still managed to be kind. She knew Sansa’s story and she hadn’t said a horrible thing about it.

“Will you be alright in here on your own?” Margaery asked as they reached the tiny cubicle that functioned as the sick room. “I’d stay with you, but I think Miss Montgomery might bite my head off.”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” she said, smiling to reassure her. “It’s last period anyway, I might just rest five minutes then head off home.”

“Should you drive if you hit your head?” Margaery asked, concern furrowing her eyebrows. Her brown eyes were suddenly on Sansa again, worried this time, and Sansa could feel their heat. She felt heat rising to her cheeks, and was glad she was hot and sweaty enough for it not to be noticeable.

  
“I walk to school, I live pretty close.”

“Okay then, if you say so. Oh, but if you have any problems you should message me. Are we friends on Facebook yet?”

Inwardly Sansa smiled at the thought of Margaery Tyrell, a girl she’d known less than two days, being the first person she’d contact in an emergency - by the medium of a _Facebook message_ , no less – when she’d be in gym class for the next forty minutes anyway. But she didn’t mind the notion. 

“No, but I’ll add you.” She said, as the other girl began walking back towards the gym doors, and Sansa thought maybe gym class wasn’t too bad after all, even if it did lead to head injuries. Or maybe that was just the concussion talking.

 

* * *

 

Her mum was worried when she heard Sansa get back so early, and her frown only increased when she saw her disheveled appearance.

“Sansa? What happened to you?” The hushed concern in her tone made Sansa want to cry, and she determined at that moment that however bad the taunting at school got, she wasn’t going to force her mum to have to deal with any of it. She had enough burdens already.

“I’m completely fine, mum, it was just an accident in gym class. The new girl fell on top of me.”

“The new girl?” Said her mum shrewdly, “The Tyrell girl whose father's the new Vice Principal?”

“Yeah,” said Sansa, wishing she didn’t have to bring that into this. Those memories were painful. “She’s actually really nice, she took me to the medical room and everything. But gym was last period anyway, so I took the chance to leave before the crush. Speaking of, I should probably let Robb know he shouldn’t wait for me.” Sansa watched as her mother’s face smoothed over, as she let herself accept Sansa’s story. She was glad that this time it was the truth; she didn’t mind hiding things from her mum, but she hated outright lying.

“Well in that case, do you want to help me make dinner? I was thinking pasta bake.” Sansa’s face lit up: pasta bake was her favourite.

They’d been in the kitchen a good half an hour before Robb and Arya showed up, and the smell of food was beginning to waft throughout the apartment. Robb was in his sports kit and a bad mood. Sansa knew he’d had a practice at lunch when the team listings for this year were meant to be announced, but she was surprised that Robb could get away with not changing out of his kit for his remaining two periods. Then again, Robb had a way with teachers. They always seemed to gravitate towards him as their favourite.

“Bad news?” She asked tentatively.

“Could be worse. Is the food ready yet, mum? I’m starving.”

“Almost, sweetling. Why don’t you and Arya go and set the table and I’ll bring it in when it’s plated up. Sansa, could you go and get Bran and Rickon from upstairs?” Sansa went. It had been nice having mum to herself for once, for however short a time. “Make sure Rickon’s washed his hands!” She shouted after Sansa as she reached the bottom of the stairs.”

When she came back down with Rickon and Bran in tow the table had been elegantly set for six, and a welcoming plate of pasta bake and salad was waiting for her.

“Will you tell us now?” Asked Arya as everyone else started eating, eagerly awaiting Robb’s blow by blow account of the entire football practice session.

“The bad news is I now have to put up with that Baratheon asshole four times a week. He’s going to mess up the entire team atmosphere as well, I can just tell.”

“Joff’s on the main team this year?” Sansa was surprised; he’d been on the junior team last year, but as far as she could tell he wasn’t very good, and Sophomores rarely made the actual league.

“Kings’ darling?” Robb looked ready to throttle someone. Sansa didn’t know how he was keeping his food down. “Of course he is. He’s a complete piece of shit too, as if I didn’t have enough pressure trying to keep a team in line when half of them hate my guts.” Sansa looked away, uncomfortable talking this openly about school hatred with their mom in the room. As though on queue, she cut in.

“Language, Robb” she cautioned gently, but Arya was still all ears.

“But you’re still QB, right?”

“Yeah” said Robb with a slight grin “they can’t get rid of me that easily, not when so many colleges are lining up to scout me.”

“Who’s your fullback?”

“It’s still Hodor; he’s so stupid they’re keeping him back a year, which is good for us I guess. I’ve got a new Half-Back though; name’s Theon Greyjoy, just transferred in as a junior.”

“Is he any good?” Truly, Sansa would never understand how Arya managed to be so interested in football. It wasn’t like anything exciting ever happened in it; the cheer routines at the start were more inventive than the actual game.

“I hope so; what we really need is a good attack this season…”

Sansa’s interest was gone. The emotion that had been sparked by Joffrey’s name had subsided, and actual football did nothing but put her to sleep. She looked down at her phone: she only had one notification. “ _Margaery Tyrell accepted your friend request_ ,” read the words on the screen, and Sansa smiled to herself.


End file.
